All In My Head
by silverbugs
Summary: Sam and Dean, with the help of Castiel, hunt a vengeful fallen goddess, but Dean falls under her curse. Entering a comatose state, his life flashes before his eyes, and he knows only Cass can save him. Destiel. fluff(eventually, I promise). Will have multiple chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"So, what d'ya got?"

Dean eyed his brother expectantly as Sam set the newspaper on the diner table. "Seven deaths in the past two weeks," Sam said, taking a mouthful of black coffee. "All elderly people."

Dean shrugged, then said with his mouth still full, "What's so odd about that? Old folks die all the time, right?"

"You didn't let me finish." Sam's face flickered with interest as he read from the newspaper article: "_Recent baffling deaths of seven senior citizens in the St. Augustine area of Florida. All _

_of them had been in a coma, experiencing violent REM for -"_

"REM?"

"Rapid eye movement," Sam explained. He then continued reading; "_violent REM_ _for forty-eight hours before being slashed to death by - seemingly - nothing at all. Cause of death: blood loss. _Seems a bit strange to me. That, and no one saw it happen."

"The slashing, you mean?"

Sam nodded. "Also, all seven victims showed signs of dementia prior to their comatose states. That part may not sound unusual, but seven vics, all with the same mysterious M.O.?"

"Sounds like our kind of thing," Dean said while swallowing the last bite of his lunch. He tossed a few bills onto the table and drove off with Sam to St. Augustine, just about three hours away from where they were staying in Savannah, Georgia.

The next day, Sam had been sitting at the small table in a rather uncomfortable chair for what seemed like hours, researching everything he could on the subject of their new case until Dean finally arrived back to their room later that afternoon. He would have stayed out much later were it not for overhearing a news channel playing in the bar announcing another mysterious death at yet another nursing home in the area. Dean burst into the motel room, not even shutting the door behind him.

"Did you hear about the -"

"New death? Yeah," Sam said.

"I thought we might talk to one of the vic's family members or visit the scene of the death."

"Let's go, then," Sam said. He pulled the sleeves of his coat on, remembering to grab from his bag the two investigators' badges.

The two brothers arrived at Hansen's Nursing Center, showing their badges to the middle-aged woman at the desk who directed them to a guard. Sam and Dean were then escorted to an extremely clean room upstairs. The body had since been removed, and several officers were prowling around, stooping to examine blood spatters and other articles of the ended life. One officer in particular was chatting with the grievous owner of the nursing home, and the brothers made their way to the pair.

"Excuse us," Dean said, pulling his badge from his chest pocket. "Federal Agent Barrett, and my partner Agent Waters."

"Officer Tyler," the cop said, shaking the hands of Sam and Dean. The owner of the place shook their hands as well, introducing himself as Mr. Hansen.

"Officer, you say there were no witnesses?" Sam said, replacing the badge in his pocket.

"None. That we know of, at least. Mrs. Fields, the victim, lived here alone."

"And there are no security cameras?" Dean said.

"Oh, no," Mr. Hansen interjected. "We respect all of our tenants here with the utmost privacy."

"Yeah, look what good that got ya," Dean mumbled to himself. He and Sam were walking off to to look around the room. Dean perused the bookshelves, the cabinets, and other various corners of the room while Sam interrogated the daughter of the victim.

"And Sherry, did you visit your mother often?"

"Often enough," she said, wiping her wet chin. "I got into a fight with my mother a few days back. That was the last time I'd seen her - oh god, she probably died without having forgiving me!"

Sam gave a small smile and patted the shoulder of the woman, Sherry, trying to comfort her so he could ask more questions.

"Aside from her record as being one of the oldest people in Florida," he said, while writing a few things on his notepad, "would you say there was anything - unusual about your mother? Anything she did recently that maybe, I don't know, struck you as odd?"

"No," Sherry mumbled, shaking her head. "No, nothing like that."

"Nothing at all?"

Sherry shook her head. "Excuse me," she said, seeming to crumble with every tear that fell from her face. She walked off, and Sam found Dean perusing a space of flooring under the stove in the kitchen area.

"Did you find anything?" Sam said from behind his brother. Dean stood up, looking at something in his hand.

"Yeah, I think I did."

Sam looked down at what appeared to be an ancient coin of sorts, nonagonal-shaped and rusted. Dean tucked it away into his pocket and the two left the scene of the death rather hurriedly.

Back in the car, Sam told Dean what knowledge he had gained from Mrs. Fields' daughter.

"So apparently, there was nothing special or strange about this woman."

"Meaning?"

"Whoever - or whatever - is doing this is doing it simply because these people are _old._"

"That's a little weird."

"Yeah, well. It's a lead. I'll hit the books for age predators when we get back. You look for old coins."

Several hours and a trip to the library later, Sam closed a heavy book with a loud thud and sighed. "Well, I made _some_ progress. Turns out St. Augustine is recognized as the very first settlement in America by Europeans. It was the Spanish who -"

"No offense, man," Dean interjected, looking up from the laptop which was really beginning to hurt his eyes, "but that's_ progress_?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well I thought about it, and don't you see? The oldest settlement in America, where the oldest citizens are spontaneously getting dementia; falling comatose, then being slashed to death? I thought it all might mean something, so I looked up creatures that prey on years."

"And?"

"_And,_ it turns out we aren't up against a creature at all. The perp's a goddess. Or should I say, fallen goddess. Her name's Enapay. That coin you found, it was -"

"Yeah," Dean mumbled. At that very moment, he found a picture of the exact coin on a PDF of archaic currency. "Native American."

"Right. Enapay was supposedly the Native American goddess of age, or rather, the lack of it. When it came time for the elderly to die, she would feed on their memories - thus, dementia comes about - and puts them into a deep sleep - comas - then she'd let them die."

That doesn't explain the slashing or the blood loss of our vics," Dean said, looking skeptically at his brother.

"Remember how I said she was a fallen goddess?"

Dean nodded.

"Don't you think that, if you were kicked from grace, you'd want some revenge? And maybe you'd be a little power-hungry? She does feed on years, after all. Maybe she's trying to regain her strength. I don't know, just theorizing here."

"And the coin. Why would she leave it there?"

"Well, supposedly, all souls are protected from fallen gods and goddesses by default. It's kind of like angel markings. A fallen god or goddess can't come into close proximity of a human unless she drops a coin in their dwelling. Like a hex bag, but slyer."

"Okay, that all makes sense, I guess, but why now? Why all of a sudden? And how do we kill her?

"No idea. That's what I was hoping to figure out. I was thinking about visiting the local college campus tomorrow and talking to a professor there who specializes in Native American culture and history."

Dean nodded. He took Sam's mention of "tomorrow" as a cue to finally retire to bed; and though it was only ten o'clock, he gratefully took the opportunity to rest.

The next morning Sam awoke to find Dean already up, sitting at the table on their laptop, curled over a marker and a large diagram of some sort.

"Morning, sunshine," Dean teased. He threw Sam the bag of fast-food breakfast he had gotten and resumed doing whatever he was doing while Sam showered and dressed. Sam came out of the bathroom fully dressed as Dean finally closed his marker's cap, sitting back to study what he had just drawn.

"You sure are up early," he said, pulling on his shoes and eyeing Dean with suspicion. "Can I ask what you're so piously working on?"

Dean held up the large map he had scribbled on in red marker. "I made a map of everywhere this Enapay-bitch went to, and it turns out she didn't go in age-order."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"What I mean is, she didn't start with the oldest. Maybe she isn't as professional as we think. In fact, Lisa Crow, the second victim, was only seventy-nine. Her husband, though, was ninety-eight, but he's still alive. The police never got the chance to interrogate him though, 'cause he died right when his wife fell into a coma. Heart attack."

"Okay. What else?"

"They lived together in a condo in the area. Look." Dean handed his brother the map. The scrawlings showed a plot in the shape of a nonagon, just like the shape of the coin, except only eight out of nine sides had been filled in.

"Maybe Mrs. Crow got in Enapay's way?"

"That's what I'm thinking. Look, I see the pattern. As soon as we figure out how to kill this bitch, I'm gonna head over to the next area that fills in the nonagon. See if that professor knows anything about destroying a fallen goddess, okay?"

Sam agreed, grabbed the car keys, and headed off. Dean sat back down in front of their laptop to do something a little more... recreational for a few hours while he waited for his brother.

Just barely dozing off half an hour later, he was startled by the flapping of wings and someone saying his name from behind him. Dean barely had time to process the sounds before turning around and seeing Castiel.

"Cass, what - what are you doing here?"

"I know how to destroy Enapay." He stepped closer. "I want to help."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You knew all along what we were up against, and you chose now to step in? I mean, it may not have been Sam and I that were in danger, but eight people have died, Cass."

"I'm here now, and that's all that matters." He watched Dean's eyes for a few moments before continuing. "I'm obviously the oldest person out of the three of us," - meaning Sam, Dean, and himself - "so I'm willing to go with you to stop Enapay."

"Wait, you mean you're offering yourself as _bait_?"

Cass nodded slowly, eyes fixated on the ground now. "You can put it that way."

"How do you know you can kill her?"

"My brothers... they killed Enapay's sister."

And how do you know this bitch won't just kill you first? If she feeds on years, she'll obviously stop at nothing to drain you of all of yours."

"Don't worry about me, Dean. Just tell me where she's going to be next."

"No way in hell, man! You aren't going without me."

Dean was standing up at this point, standing somewhat close to the angel. The motel door opened all of a sudden and Sam walked through, looking happy to see his friend.

"Cass?" he said. "What are you doing he-"

"He wants to help destroy Enapay," Dean replied to his brother, his eyes still on Cass. Sam chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Cass snapped.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, still smirking a bit. "I just find it a little ironic that an angel of _the Lord _is going nose-to-nose with a deity from a complete other theology -"

"Yeah, no one cares, Sam; Cass is about to give himself up as bait -"

"Cass? Are you sure you want to do this?" Sam said, setting down the papers he had walked in with. When he didn't get a reply, he simply shrugged. "Well, I guess I visited that professor for nothing, if you really do know how to kill a fallen goddess."

Cass looked over at Sam, somewhat apologetically. "Dean and I will be going now," he said, grabbing Dean by one elbow and placing two cold fingers to his forehead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Dean hadn't even had time to respond. He wouldn't have objected to going with Cass, though - this whole case was his and Sam's own problem, not Castiel's. He did have time to close his eyes and just barely attach his fingers to Cass' sleeve, though, before his ears were clouded with the sound of wings and feathers.

They were in the hotel's parking lot in front of the Impala, as Dean understood when he opened his eyes and detached himself from the angel.

"We could have just walked here," Dean said.

"You wouldn't have done it, though," Cass replied, getting into the passenger seat. Dean rolled his eyes, somewhat annoyed that Cass didn't have much faith in him - and rightly so, he thought, as he also folded himself into the car.

"You should have let me go alone," Dean said to Cass several minutes later as they were driving down the highway. "You know how dangerous she is."

"It's equally, if not more, perilous for you," the angel said rather quietly, looking out the window absently.

Dean winced. The angel had a tone of concern and... _care _in his voice. Dean remembered his first few weeks with Cass after they first met post-hell: Cass was literally emotionless, until he revealed that he was developing attachment for the "humans in his ward," meaning Dean. Now Cass showed fear, sadness, happiness, and - of course, bravery... but he also showed love. Dean knew Cass loved him and Sam; he was always looking out for them. The Winchesters were probably better brothers than Cass' angel brothers ever were.

But Cass had also said to Sam that he and Dean shared a stronger bond. A more profound one, he had said. This was true: Cass always had something else shining in his eyes when he looked at Dean. And Dean was startlingly aware of it, but he felt something other than flattery. Maybe it was the fact that Cass gave up his holy stature for him; the fact that the angel learned emotions, bitter and painful emotions, because of him... An emotionless creature, who gave up everything for a self-loathing hunter.

Dean shook his head. Most of his life, he had been told to repress these "weak, chick-flick" type thoughts. And now, while he was on a case, was not an optimal time to be having them.

The car turned onto a quieter street, then into a quaint neighborhood called Cedar Lane, which was more like a small strip of houses. The rest of the lot was in construction for remodelling. The houses were conjoined and looked over a decade old - the perfect place to prey on an innocent senior citizen. They still had no clue exactly which house Enapay was planning on visiting, but since there were only about ten or eleven of them that seemed to be inhabited, Dean parked the car around the corner of the neighborhood's entrance for a view of the whole row of houses. He shut the engine off.

"And now, we wait?" he said.

Cass nodded, watching out the window. It was only around one in the afternoon, but all the other attacks had been in daylight, so Dean assumed it wouldn't be a long wait. He turned on the radio, switching it to his usual classic rock station, but some other genre was playing.

"God, the stations in this town suck ass," he complained, quickly turning the music back off. He was just about to reach to the back seat for a cassette tape when Cass spoke.

"Dean, over there." He pointed to a small condo at the end of the row. Cass unbuckled his seatbelt, but Dean stopped him.

"Wait," he said. "We shouldn't stop her now or she'll just whisk away. Besides, her next victim will be in a coma for forty-eight hours. We should give her time to at least get in the house before we follow after her."

"Dean, as soon as she puts her victims into a coma, there is no way of reviving them," Cass said, a worried look on his face.

"So the slashing -"

"She doesn't need to be present to rip her victims to death."

Cass watched Dean contemplate their timing before deciding it was safe to get out of the car. Assuming that Cass knew what he was doing in going after Enapay with hopes of killing her, and that they needed no specific weapon, Dean just tucked his handgun into the waist of his jeans and his favorite knife of Ruby's into his coat as a measure of precaution.

(Hell, he was so used to it now; he felt naked without a weapon of any kind. There really wasn't any occasion Dean could recall in the past six-plus years where he hadn't felt the need to carry one. Sure, he went out sometimes to drink, or have some fun otherwise; but there was always a gun on him. And he never stopped to question if there was anything out of the ordinary about it.)...

They reached the house on foot. Dean didn't hear anything coming from inside, but then again, if Enapay put people to sleep, it would be quiet. He bit his lip and quietly tried the doorknob - unlocked. Cass followed him inside; unarmed, but undeterred. Making sure their steps were light, they found their way to the house-owner's bedroom.

They heard a sharp inhale, much like a sniff, coming from the other side of the door. The first thought that came to Dean's mind was the Enapay sensed them, especially Cass, and scented his years like a meal - she did feed on years, so the lifespan of the angel must have been like a very fine wine to her. Shuddering at this thought, Dean turned the handle of the bedroom, abandoning all patience. A thundering roar sounded from the darkness, and the last real sound Dean heard was the shrill scream of the elderly woman in bed whom he assumed had been napping until that point. He then saw Enapay turn to Cass - the goddess was dark and tall, with black hair that cascaded across the floor, but not much else could be seen in the windowless room. Enapay's nose seemed to flare with anger and hunger, and she moved towards the angel with such speed, and every second threatened to see the ending of Castiel. He held up his hand in pure silence, reaching to her forehead, and Dean and the elderly woman - in shock - watched as the power poured, visibly, from Enapay's mouth. In a final act of defiance with any bit of strength she might have had left, her eyes turned to Dean and she whispered three words under her breath. The bright flash of Enapay's power draining blurred in front of Dean's eyes, and he slumped to the floor from Enapay's words. Her eyelids finally shut - but so had Dean's.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Sorry for the short chapter. This one was kind of a pain to write. Also, I'm back in school this week, so updates might become less frequent, and for that I apologize. Please review - constructive criticism is much appreciated!**

**Chapter Three**

_ Trees and darkness loomed overhead and twigs cracked understep. Dean had been running for what seemed like hours, but the more he thought about it, the more those hours seemed like seconds. He was losing track of time and energy and began walking instead. _

_ It was like a strange dream, but it felt so real. His surroundings looked just like Purgatory, and he sure as hell felt hungry and tired like he had when he was there. He was completely alone in this forest; he had frequently been stopping every now and then to listen for far-off footsteps, growls, rustling... but he was alone._

_ Dean shed his leather jacket and laid it at the roots of a large tree, then rested his head against it to attempt to sleep. His eyelids barely had time to close before he found himself somewhere else._

_ It was broad daylight this time; he knew that much before he even opened his eyes. He was standing in a dirt lot full of old cars - Bobby's house. He didn't question how he had gotten there or why; he just decided he ought to go in - he hadn't lifted his foot from the ground before he was transported inside._

_ Like a dream, he thought. Just a weird dream._

_ But he felt so deep... into what, he had no idea. It was like he was deeper asleep than he had ever been. This wasn't like when he died and found himself in heaven, reliving old memories with people from his past. This was something slightly closer to the surface of consciousness, but he had no control over anything except his movements. Even his thoughts were foreign._

_ For example, right now, standing in Bobby's vacant living room, Dean still had his old feelings for the place. He looked around with a bit of nostalgia at the books which held so much knowledge; the books he had pored over when he stayed at Bobby's with Sam when he was younger. He looked to that old fridge which he could always depend on to have a beer waiting for him._

_ Dean wanted to feel confusion and fear, but he couldn't. He wanted to feel like he had questions: how did I get here? Where is anyone? But he didn't feel any confusion. Just a strong affirmation in the back of his mind that this must be a dream._

_ He blinked once - just once; and then turned around to the sound of someone calling his name. It was a voice he was very familiar with, but he couldn't place a name with it. _

_ A vague shadow of a figure flickered across his vision, but only for a brief moment, and then it was gone. _

_ "Wait!" Dean shouted. _

"I think I'm breaking through to him."

"Dean."

"Dean..."

_ His head was spinning; his vision was lilting all over the place. He felt sick - or, he wanted to feel sick, because that would be the natural thing to feel, but instead he felt apathetic and - even a little bored. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a motel bed. It was so real,even the sheets were stale, the air conditioning was loud, and the room that familiar, distasteful smell. The windows were dark and the only light came from the clock on the table beside him. It said 11:20._

_ Shit, Dean thought, turning away. Wait..._

_ He turned back and glanced at the clock again. It said 4:58 this time. Dean knew changing clocks were a typical dream symptom. _

_So how the hell do I wake up..? _

Sam had decided to visit the professor again and make a stop at the library on the way back. Cass declined Sam's offer to go along.

"I'll watch over Dean," the angel had said.

Now, looking over the sleeping human, a ghastly pang of remorse washed over Castiel. If he had only insisted that Dean stay at the motel, or hell - even just wait in the car while Cass went inside to handle Enapay, none of this would be happening.

Dean only had twelve hours left, and the past thirty-six hadn't exactly been stress-free for Sam and Cass. Enapay was gone, sure; they had stopped her from filling the nonagon and rising to power, and Cass wanted to feel proud about that, but looking down at Dean who lay peacefully in the middle of the bed, he felt nothing but guilt.

Castiel placed a hand on one of Dean's, gripping tightly to his fingers, watching his sleeping face.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," his voice cracked.

He felt a slight tug on his hand, looking down to see that Dean was squeezing back.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I think there might only be one or two chapters after this. Please review! I really want to know what you all think.**

**Chapter Four**

___Dean's mind was becoming much more chaotic. His memories were running rampant; he couldn't discern between his real thoughts and those that were determined by his setting. All he knew was that he wanted to get somewhere safe; somewhere familiar where he could relax for a few moments. He was exhausted and his head hurt, and everything around him kept changing. _

_ He slumped to the ground - he didn't even know where he was - and shut his eyes time he was actually intending to teleport. _

_ Suddenly he felt the familiar background of the backseat of the Impala. The car was like a second home to him - his first being Bobby's - because of the meaning and memories attached to it. It was one of the most concrete things he knew, so though his years were being riped out from under him, he trusted to be safe here. He was sure he could rest for a while without being unwillingly whisked away again. _

"I'm so sorry, Dean."

_"What the hell -" _

_ Where was that voice coming from? And why was it so familiar?_

_He looked down at his hand, which had been hurting for reasons he knew not, and suddenly all the pain was gone - but it was more than that; it was like the pain was never there._

_His chest was what pained him now. He looked down, startled to see that there were no wounds, not even a scratch or a mark, yet he felt as if his skin had been punctured right over his heart; just a small indention, but it felt like it should be bleeding..._

_And then, just like what had happened with his hand, the pain suddenly ceased to have ever existed. He wanted to feel fine, but he was afraid._

_If he was truly asleep or otherwise unconscious, he had no memory of falling into such a state. The last things he remembered were a weird shrill noise, like an old woman screaming, and then a bright white light pouring from the mouth of a dark woman, and some weird mutterings before he fell asleep. Everything was a blur._

.

"It's starting, Sam."

Sam felt helpless as he watched his brother writhe in pain. Dean was still sleeping soundly as ever, though Sam know not how - his chest and hand were still bright red, even with the angel's helping touch.

"Can't you do something? Bring him out of his coma?"

"Sam, you have asked that six times now," Cass muttered, but Sam wasn't listening. He was pacing the room, trying to think of a way to save his brother. He really did feel useless. He had spent the past twelve hours perusing books for reviving spells, information on Native American gods' curses, and the likes; even though Castiel had told him he was just wasting his time.

"Well what else am I supposed to do; just stand there?" Sam had yelled in frustration. But he had immediately regretted it. Oftentimes Sam - and Dean, too - took the angel for granted. Right now Cass was doing his best to keep Dean's wounds down, and it was draining most of Cass' energy.

Sam sighed; exhausted and vexed. "I'm sorry."

Cass nodded.

"So I've been thinking, and... well you said Enapay just turned to Dean, and that was it? Why would she curse him in hopes of taking his years, if she knew she was going to die under your hand right then and there?"

Castiel shrugged. His eyes were lowered to the floor with tiredness. "Revenge, possibly."

"Right," Sam said. "Maybe she knew that she couldn't have you, so Dean was just an afterthought, to make you pissed or something. Maybe she also knew that you're the only one that can save him." Sam looked at his sleeping brother and Cass thought it over for a minute.

"I'm doing my best to save him, Sam, but things aren't looking well. We only have nine hours left -"

"Wait! Say that again -"

"That again."

"No, you said we only have -"

"Nine hours left."

Sam sprang up from his chair and started pacing while he spoke quickly. "I remember reading something about how all fallen gods and goddesses have a strength that is also their weakness; usually like a symbol or number or something. And in Enapay's case, her strong number - nine - is also her weakness. Nine hours left? That number's like a sort of portal; if we can just communicate with Dean, we can wake him up."

.

Cass refused to leave Dean's side; no matter what else Sam needed him to do. Cuts were appearing all over the sleeping human's skin, as if an invisible knife were trailing itself across him, and whenever the slightest spot of blood surfaced, Castiel placed his hands on Dean. His energy was draining more quickly now, and healing was becoming more strenuous, but still he spared everything for Dean.

Meanwhile Sam had laid out a nine-sided shape on the motel floor out of rock salt - they had figured this must work -, and he and Castiel carried Dean's unconscious body inside it. They had decided that Castiel would, in a way, enter Dean's dreams and bring him out.

"What'll you say to him?" Sam said.

"I'll figure something out," Cass murmured; his eyes still watching Dean. His energy was so low, he didn't even know if this would work.

"You do know how dreams work, right? Once you're in one, it's hard to get out of one?"

Castiel shrugged limply.

"You - you've never dreamt before, have you?" Sam said. "I don't know whether to call you sorry or lucky -"

"I should go," the angel interrupted. And just as hasty as he had said it, he placed his two hands on Dean's shoulders. Sam was holding Dean's body upright, and now Cass was too; the angel's eyes were pressed closed and pensive.

.

"_Dean."_

_Dean opened his eyes. Next to him in the backseat was Castiel._

"_Cass," he said. He wanted to sound excited to see his friend because he hadn't seen any other faces for who knows how long, but he was too exhausted to lift his voice from a dreary monotone. "How did you get here?" he asked._

"_I'm an angel, Dean. I can travel into dreams as well as whereabouts."_

_Dean winced. "How do I get out?"_

"_With me." Castiel took Dean's shoulders again, like he had with Dean's sleeping body, and he concentrated - but his attempt was futile. He opened his eyes, dumbstruck._

"_It isn't working," he said. "I'm too weak - I don't have enough energy."_

"_Great, so now we're both stuck here," Dean said. "How... how long do I have?" He gestured to the read markings that were scathing his skin._

"_About two hours. In the waking world, at least. I'm unsure about how time intervals work here."_

"_But you should have enough power to get out alone, right?" He looked at Cass, who seemed to be studying everywhere and anywhere except Dean's eyes. "Right?" Dean demanded._

"_Yes," Cass admitted quietly. "But I won't leave without you."_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_Dean considered everything to wake himself up. His first idea was jumping from an upper story of a building; that falling sensation always woke him up, not to mention, it always scared the shit out of him when it happened in dreams. _

"_You can't," Cass said wearily, settling deep into the cushions of the car; not out of comfort but out of necessity. He didn't want Dean to jump from a tall story, because then Castiel would be stuck here; and he couldn't jump alongside Dean, because this was real for Castiel - he actually would be injured, and he couldn't risk that in his already-fragile current state, and at this point he didn't care how selfish it sounded. Besides, there were other ways to get out of this dream state - oh God, there _had _to be other ways._

"_And why not?" Dean replied._

"_It wouldn't work," Castiel lied. "Not in this dimension."_

"_Well, then what's _your _well-developed plan, genius?" the other retorted. His own _nerves_ were beginning to get on his nerves._

_ To be honest, Cass _did _have a plan, and it was well-thought out. But there was just no way... It could only be used if they couldn't get out by any other means... Castiel contemplated other options, but came up empty. _

_ "Oh." That single syllable escaped Dean's mouth before it even fully registered in his mind; connotations and all. He watched Castiel's face. Would they really have to take those measures...?_

_ "I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel's chin was practically resting on his chest, the poor guy was so out of it; he didn't even know what Dean was saying. All Cass could think about was the fact that he _knew _he would have to kill Dean - this Dean, in this dreaming world. Castiel, though he wasn't a sleeper, knew that if someone died in his own dream, he would wake._

_ And that amount of pain would be enough to wake them both up..._

_ Dean didn't know where the hell Cass was going with this. His mind was still wandering, and not just because he was in a comatose state in the waking world, but because there was something about the prolonged exposure to this godforsaken dreaming world. It made him dizzy. And all he could think about was the fact that shock in a dream is the best way to wake someone, and Dean knew where Cass was going with _that (_or, at least he thought he knew_). _Would they really have to...?_

_ And why Cass he say sorry? _

_ "Dean," Castiel said. "Forgive me."_

_ A silver metallic object slipped into Castiel's palm from the cuff of his sleeve, soundlessly. _

.

'_This will hurt for you, but it'll hurt more for me... No. This is an illusion; all of it. You're dreaming, just like him. So why does it feel so vivid; so real? Dreams are very strange things,' Castiel thought._

_ 'I don't want to kill him. Even if we both wake afterwards, this is real right now. It must be.'_

_ Dean could only sit there, hopelessly confused. Cass was planning to _kill _him? Not exactly what Dean had in mind... But this was far less awkward._

_ What if it hurt?_

_ No; it certainly wouldn't; Dean had died in dreams more times than he could count. It didn't hurt. He'd just end up waking up. It was like a scary movie - it may be frightening when it's the present, but when it's in the past it's not even real anymore._

_ Yet still, Dean felt some apprehension. This wasn't an ordinary dream, to be sure: he was in a damn paranormal-coma; for all he knew, that fallen goddess could have put some curse on the dreams that followed; made pain feel-able. Or worse: made it impossible to escape._

_ Dean grabbed Castiel's wrist - the one holding the blade. 'You don't need my forgiveness on this,' he wanted to say; 'Do it. We don't know how much time has passed in the real world, and now may be the only chance -' Castiel cut into his thoughts._

_ "It's going to hurt," Castiel said meekly, and God, Dean felt sorry for the angel: he had just fucking drained all his power, just to heal some cuts on Dean's skin._

_ "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not so sensitive to pain," Dean said, drawing Castiel's wrist closer. Do it, now..._

_ "No... it will hurt for me."_

_ A painful shock, like hot water, hit Dean's throat. It was like Cass knew what he had been thinking._

_Oh God... did Castiel read his mind several minutes previously, when Dean was thinking about them taking other measures to shock Dean out of this place...?_

_C'mon, man, keep it together; Dean thought. _

_Then he remembered that Castiel was new to dreams._

_ "You'll be fine; we both will," Dean's speech was rushing. He wanted to get out. This place was giving him horrifying amounts of anxiety like he had never had before._

_ "I was... selfish..."_

_ "No - damnit, Cass, c'mon -"_

_ "Let me explain." Castiel was practically whispering by now. The guy looked like hell - and Dean couldn't blame him. Dreaming was like being lost in a labyrinth without even knowing you're in one. _

_When Dean didn't say anything in reply, Castiel continued, trying to rush to get all his words out, but ending up slurring on half of them. "I went after Enapay with you; not to avenge the eight victims, Dean, or to save the planned ninth victim; I went purely for... the sake of finding a fallen goddess and... I needed the po - my brother had done it in the past -"_

_Castiel suddenly felt as if he had been struck - it was a mixture of his complete lack of energy and this goddamned dream state. He resumed nonetheless: "I think Sam knew. He mentioned the so-called hilarity of my pursuit of a... deity from another theology. He knew."_

"_Knew what? Damnit; say it, Cass!" Dean was holding his friend upright by the lapels of his coat, but Castiel kept sinking deeper into the backseat, until Dean pulled him up with most of his remaining strength, positioning Castiel into a form framing the window behind him and fully-facing Dean. Dean rested a comforting hand on his shoulder to make up for his ferocity._

"_That I could obtain Enapay's power. I almost had it - but then, she turned to you, and..." Castiel's voice trailed off, and his eyelids fell, and Dean practically shook him._

"_And what? Castiel, don't do this to me. We're getting out, goddamn it, if I have to kill myself myself -"_

_And Dean grabbed the angel's wrist, whose knuckles were still loosely clenched around the handle of the blade. Dean didn't take Cass' hand off it - he merely wrapped his own hand around the angels', grabbing his other hand with his own, and plunged the knife in between his lungs, and maybe it wasn't so bad after all -_

_Just like a scary movie, right?_

.

"Dean."


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I'm so very sorry it took this long to update. I just posted a new one-shot last week and it was all I really had time for, so I apologize for that. Anyways, here's the last chapter. Get ready for fluff. **

**(I might come back to edit and make it longer, seeing as how this is a pretty lousy length for a final chapter.)**

**(Also if you catch the [somewhat-intentional] Harry Potter allusion then give yourself a high-five.)**

**Please review and tell me what you think! This is my first completed fanfiction that I've ever posted anywhere, so all feedback is appreciated. **

**.**

**Chapter Six**

The cold sweat one wakes with from vivid dreams and nightmares held no comparison to the state Dean and Castiel found themselves in, lying on the motel floor, not more than twenty minutes after the latter's departure into Dean's mind. Sam stood agape, watching his brother and friend return to life - at least seemed like they practically had.

"Dean," Sam said. He surged down towards his brother, lifting his by his cut shoulders and carrying him to one of the beds.

"Where... where am I?" he replied meekly. Suddenly he sat up. "Where's Cass?"

Sam was picking up the angel now, setting him on the adjacent bed. "He doesn't look well, Dean."

"Oh god." Dean threw off the sheets Sam had tucked around his body, and leapt towards his friend's bed. Sam wanted Dean to rest too, and almost said so, until he saw his brother's expression of something between sadness and fear.

"What can we do?" Sam said quietly.

"In my dream, he said he was losing his power. Or - or his energy... He mentioned that a fallen god's power is... obtainable, or something... He probably needs rest. And a lot of it."

Sam nodded in agreement. He made a move towards the bathroom to get washcloths for his brother's wounds, but he stopped briefly.

"Dean, what was it like?" he said. "Your... dream." He put a strange accent on the word _dream_, as if it hadn't been that at all.

And it really hadn't been. He didn't plan on telling Dean any time soon that while he and Castiel were in Dean's mind, they both wore the most pained faces one could imagine - they looked torturous; strained. Right before they had woken up, his brother had even called out in his sleep. A full-on scream, almost.

"It was..." Dean twisted his face, attempting to remember. "It was real." His face was angled downwards, his eyes on the angel who lay in the bed. He reminded himself again that Castiel had never before dreamt. And this was his first experience.

_What if he didn't wake up? _Dean thought, but quickly shoved the notion from his mind. Sam returned momentarily with bandages and wet cloths, and began to clean Dean up, but the latter made no move to help - he simply rested his eyes on some corner of the room.

"You should get some rest, too, you know," Sam suggested.

"Didn't I just sleep for like, two days or something?"

"One and a half," Sam snickered, but only half-heartedly. He focused in on his brother's eyes, which were intent on their sleeping friend. "He'll be fine, Dean." Sam rested a hand on Dean's shoulder and gestured to the vacant bed once more. "Seriously, though. That wasn't real sleep, and you look like shit. _Get rest_; I mean it."

Dean wanted to open his mouth and ask when Sam decided to be the big brother, but he didn't. Instead, he lifted the sheets that vested Castiel and laid down next to him, still keeping his distance, but this felt better than nothing.

Sam shrugged. "Hey, I kind of have this... theory," he began, but when he saw Dean's closed eyes, he decided it was better this way, and said, "Y'know, I think I'll just - take this one alone."

He closed the door silently on his way out, taking their keys and Dean's scribbled-on map with him.

After he left, Dean edged closer to the angel, to where his knees were resting in the crook of Castiel's legs. Dean didn't care. After what tumultuous sleep he had gotten - could he even call it sleep? - he felt that he was safe with Castiel, even if the angel was unconscious. Dean didn't care to question it. All he knew was that the bed was warm from the angel's heat, so he put his thoughts to rest, wrapping an arm around Castiel and placing a comforting hand on his chest - as long as he could hear the angel's heartbeat, everything would be okay - and then fell to sleep.

.

Sam stopped the car where the map indicated - the last location to fill in the nonagon. On the paper it was circled in red, so he knew it must be the right place. He crossed the road and knocked thrice on the correct door. An small elderly woman opened it promptly, as if she had been there all along.

"May I help you?" she said. Her voice was rather lively considering the age she appeared to be.

Sam held up a badge - he couldn't remember which one he had grabbed, and he didn't care. He hoped the woman's eyesight wouldn't betray him. "May I ask you a few question, Ms. -"

"Gillis. Please, call me Maria," she said, moving aside so that he could make his way into the house. She led him to the sitting room and they sat down. "What's this all about?"

He nodded. "Maria, could you tell me what happened two nights ago in your home? You reported an intruder?"

She furrowed her brows, shaking her head in dissent. "I don't remember reporting anything."

Sam opened his mouth. "Oh, I meant - one of your, uh, neighbors did. The, uh, man next door reported hearing a shrill scream, then seeing a bright flash through his windows?" He was just making it up as he went along - he didn't actually know what had happened, aside from the few details Castiel had given him. Luckily the woman questioned no further, other than wondering in her mind why an FBI agent would be on a case so unimportant.

"I was lying in my bedroom, and I heard these strange noises. There were people, right at the foot of my bed, and I prayed they might leave me be if I stayed under the covers, pretending to be asleep. Then, this man... He... did something to the woman, and I - I don't know; I'm sorry."

Sam didn't question her any further, because honestly, he didn't care. He just needed affirmation that this was indeed the woman that had nearly been a victim of Enapay. From all the research he had done the previous one or two days, he remembered having read something about the extraction of power from Native American gods and goddesses. When released by a higher being, it would find something to latch onto. And it this case, it had latched onto the only living thing in the house (Castiel and Dean had left, by then) which was, of course, Ms. Gillis. Sam only needed to extract it now, and he had the spell written in his notepad on which he was pretending to jot Ms. Gillis' answer.

He stood up, notepad still in hand. He was prepared - this wouldn't hurt the woman. After all, it was only attached to her secondarily.

It was easier and more painless than Sam expected it would be. He recited the lines with, admittedly, some complication, watching Maria's face turn from one of confusion to blankness. From his pocket Sam drew a small vial, catching the dark gray strings of liquid that dripped from Maria's fingertips.

.

He came through the motel door to find his brother - closer still to Castiel - wide awake, sitting upright with a television remote cradled in both hands. The TV set was on mute, and _what the hell was Dean even watching? The guide channel? _Sam shrugged and decided to tell his brother what he had obtained.

"I know how we can fix Cass," he said. Dean's eyebrows raised at the word _fix _- such an impersonal word, but he liked the sound of it somehow.

"How?" was the older brother's reply, standing up. Sam held the vial in the air, explaining its significance to Dean.

"You think this'll work?"

"It should. It came from the lady who almost became the ninth vic."

"So how do we administer it to him?" Dean looked down at Castiel.

"Pour it on his hands," Sam said.

"P - pour it on his hands? Really?"

"W'd you like to do the honors?" Sam handed the small bottle to Dean.

Hesitantly Dean carried it to the bed, gathering the angel's hands and placing them in one of his own. He untwisted the cap and tilted it sideways over Castiel's palms. He didn't know if he just expected it to drip off, leaving Castiel laying there, still breathing but lifeless...

He imagined him staying in this state forever - a comatose angel. What would they do then?

Dean stopped himself. He didn't want to think that, but _what if?_

"Dean, you sure you don't want me to -"

"No, Sammy -"

"Well you've been sitting there for five minutes."

Dean looked up. Quickly he poured the contents of the vial onto Castiel's hands. The gray substance immediately turned into light at the contact, but Dean couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away like Sam did.

The next thing Dean remembered was being so tired he couldn't sit up anymore. It wasn't a sudden bout of sleepiness; he had been like this for hours now, watching Cass, staying or sleeping next to him. Now, he just wanted to sleep.

Castiel's eyes opened slowly at first, and his hands - dry now - pushed himself into a position much like one when humans first awake from a long and comfortable sleep. He turned to Dean, all memories of the previous ordeal seemingly lost.

"I... had a dream," he muttered, his brows furrowing, as if dreams were the strangest thing ever.

"It wasn't a dream, Cass. You were in my mind," Dean said. He remained calm in front of Cass and Sam, but inside he was smiling. Why had he ever doubted his friend...?

"No, not that... This dream was mine. And... you were there. Does that normally happen in dreams?"

Dean looked to Sam for a moment. "Well sure," he said, smiling with one side of his mouth. "_Everyone_ dreams about _me._"

Castiel appeared to be confused. He knew Dean was joking, but there was something about him dream. It had been fleeting, and he reminisced with some sadness, because he wanted it back.

"What did you dream, Cass?" Sam said.

"Dean and I were somewhere... I don't quite remember it. I just know that it was... good. It was happy."

"I wonder why you had a dream," replied Sam.

"It might have had to do with the physical touch," Castiel stated, looking to Dean, who was thoroughly confused and... curious. "Your hand must have been on my heart, Dean."

Dean nearly choked on his breath. He could practically feel Sam's laughter emanating onto him.

"It's the only way you could have appeared yourself into my dream."

Dean looked at his brother, who appeared all too happy with himself.

"You said it yourself, Cass," Sam said; "your dream was _good. _I think I'll leave you two to your comfy sleeping and I'll… get my own room or something."

Sam grabbed his coat and - goddammit - Dean's stack of cash from the table, smiling at his brother on the way out as if to say, 'you owe me.' The door closed and Castiel turned to Dean.

"Do you want to -" Dean began.

Castiel nodded. And Dean had to admit, it had been the best sleep he had gotten in ages; even more than that.

Slowly Dean took the lapels of the angel's coat, lifting it off his shoulders and setting it on the couch. He grabbed two sets of sweatpants and shirts, and even though Castiel had never really felt comfortable in anything than his normal attire, he changed into Dean's clothes, relishing in the smell of faded alcohol and sweet soap. The clothes were admittedly too large on him, but they were comfortable and they were _Dean's. _They both climbed into the already-warm bed - this time, both of them in the middle, and Dean made a move to hold Castiel like he had earlier. Castiel sank into the touch.

When Dean placed a gentle hand on the angel's heart, he found that it was beating rapidly. They both smiled in the darkness, though neither could see each other, and both immediately fell into a sweet sleep.

.

When they awoke early the next morning, Dean found that their legs were all too entangled and his face was nuzzling the back of Cass' neck. He didn't care, and took his time extricating his limbs before the other awoke. His hand was still on the angel's heart, and Dean paused to think about how much he cared for Castiel. Cass could fly away at any time he wanted without a single word, yet he stayed - stayed _in bed _with Dean, just for sleep and dreams.

Like Cass had said, it was a good sleep - a happy one.

.


End file.
